


Chariots of Fire

by clgfanfic



Category: War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:21:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a crossover story using characters from a MacGyver episode, "The Treasure of Manco."  Enrique from MacGyver and Ironhorse from War of the Worlds were both played by actor Richard Chaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chariots of Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Obsessions and later in Black Ops #6 and Green Floating Weirdness #21 under the pen name Gillian Holt.

_"I have no doubt he's killed men before, killed them in horrible ways, but he didn't have the patience to extract information or subvert someone."_

 

"Hey, Colonel," communications expert Norton Drake called as Paul Ironhorse exited the basement annex, heading straight for the coffee machine.  It was a morning ritual for the Special Forces soldier – up at 0500, stretch, work out, run, shower, then grab a fistful of caffeine.

"What's up, Norton?" Ironhorse asked.

"Just got a call from Hernando Ochoa, Gabriel Morales' replacement in Peru. You know, the new Mr. ET," the handsome black hacker explained.  "It seems that a joint U.S., Peruvian, and Ecuadorian archeological crew have found another one of those alien black objects somewhere in Ecuador."

"Another triangle?" Ironhorse asked, filling his elephant head coffee mug to the brim.

"He didn't say, just asked if we could come down and take a look.  They haven't actually removed it from the dig site yet, so we can get a look at it up close and personal in its natural state.  Harrison's gonna love that."

"Have you told Blackwood?" he asked, then took a sip of Drake's latest blend. A contented sigh passed his lips.

"Not yet, I just hung up with Ochoa."

"All right, fill Harrison and Suzanne in; I'll go make the flight arrangements."  He started for the stairs, then paused and turned back to meet the man's eyea.  "And Norton?"

"Yeah, big guy?"

"Get me some background information on Ochoa, the dig, and anyone else involved with it.  Contact Major Michaud if you run into any roadblocks.  I want to be prepared."

"Will do," Norton agreed, then watched Ironhorse leave.  He grinned.  "Always a Boy Scout, Colonel."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Early the next morning three members of the Blackwood Project boarded a private Leer jet, along with a six-member A-Team hand-picked from among the ranks of Ironhorse's Omega Squad.  Taking off from Ft. Streeter, Ironhorse flew the first leg of the trip, then turned the controls over to WO Dorian Franklin for the second half of the flight, joining Harrison and Suzanne in the forward cabin.  He sank down into one of the plush leather seats with a satisfied sigh.

Eventually they passed over snow-capped peaks skirted at the base with rich, green rainforest.  Suzanne leaned closer to her window, staring out at the awe-inspiring vista.

"Those are rainforests, aren't they?" she asked.

"Yes," Harrison said, but before he could launch into a lecture, Ironhorse interrupted.

"The mountains are freezing, the jungles hotter than hell."

"Seems kind of… unnatural," the microbiologist replied, glancing from one man to the other.  It sounded to her like the "boys" wanted to play.

Ironhorse leaned over and glanced out his window as well.  "See that big mountain over there?"

"I think so," Suzanne said, trying to follow the invisible line from his fingertip to the peaks below.

"That's Chimborazo."

"Twenty thousand, five hundred feet above sea level," Harrison added matter-of-factly.

"Wow," Suzanne breathed, enjoying the scenery, and the playful rivalry between the two men.  It hadn't always been so friendly.

"The ones where we're going further to the north are around ten thousand feet high, the smallest one only seven thousand feet.  Antonio de Pichincha," Paul said in a rush, watching Blackwood from the corner of his eye.  Just how much did the scientist know about Ecuador anyway?

"And do you know where you'd be if you were standing on the top of Antonio de Pichincha, Colonel?" Blackwood asked.

"Give me a break, Doctor," the soldier said, his tone dismissive.  "That's where the longitude and latitudes cross the equator."

"So?" Suzanne asked, hoping to spur them on.

"That means that on a navigational chart you'd be standing at zero degrees, zero minutes, and zero seconds," Ironhorse explained, then looked to Blackwood.  "I didn't know you were a pilot, Doctor."

"I'm not," Harrison said, enjoying the exchange.  "I just collect trivia like some people collect… stamps.  How do you know so much about Ecuador?"

Ironhorse allowed a small crooked smile to lift the right side of his mouth.  "I'm afraid that's need to know, Doctor."

"A _very_ convenient excuse, Colonel," Blackwood countered good-naturedly.

A soft _bing_ and an amber light flashing overhead ended the contest, letting them know they were beginning their descent.  They sat back in their seats and checked their seatbelts.

"Where are we landing, anyway?" Suzanne asked.

"Quito," Ironhorse told her.

"It's the capital, _and_ the oldest city in Ecuador," Harrison added.

"What's this mountain?" Suzanne asked, checking out the huge peak that stood like a sentry over the city as they passed over.

"Cotopaxi," Ironhorse said before Blackwood could.  "It stands about two miles above the capital."

"And it's an active volcano, Suzanne," Blackwood picked up.  "The capital itself has survived eruptions, earthquakes, and the Inca and Spanish conquests."

 _He's certainly done his homework_ , sighed Ironhorse silently.

The pilot banked for his final approach, carrying them over the city squares filled with open-air markets.  Around the squares sat low houses with broad eaves and red-tiled roofs that had faded from long exposure to the sun.  The jet glided onto a smooth runway, slowed, then taxied to a VIP hanger at the edge of the airport.

Ironhorse noticed the embassy car parked along the fence next to the hanger and led the way outside, using his hand-held Geiger counter and heat detector to sweep the area for aliens.  He slipped the device into his pocket, leaving it on, just in case.

Hernando Ochoa, a handsome man in his mid-forties, greeted the three Project members.  Lean and light-skinned, the diplomat had graying-brown hair and hazel-colored eyes.  He noted the Omegans as they climbed down the short flight of stairs to the tarmac, duffle bags hanging off each of their shoulders.

"Oh, dear," he said.  "I did not think you would be so many."

"Two of my people will stay with the plane," Ironhorse said.  "But if you can provide the others with a vehicle?"

"Certainly," Ochoa said, snapping his fingers.

A pudgy young man with a dark complexion scrambled out of the car, looking haggard and slightly annoyed.

"Have a jeep sent for the Colonel's men," he told the young man in Spanish.

"Yes, sir," was the quick reply before the man disappeared into in the hanger to make the call.

"Carlos Cruz, my assistant," Ochoa explained as he brushed unseen dust from his well-tailored Italian suit.  "Now, if you will come with me, I will see that you're settled at the American embassy for tonight.  They are expecting you.  The Consul General, Theodore Bartlett, is a close friend.  I am sure he will be a most gracious host."

"But I was hoping to take a look at your artifact," Harrison said, noting the man's manicured hands and the expensive gold and gem-stone rings he wore.

"I am very sorry, Dr. Blackwood, but it is too late to travel to the site today.  It is several hours out of the city, far up into the mountains.  But we will leave first thing in the morning."

Ironhorse nodded.  "The American Embassy," he called to Coleman, who nodded that she had heard.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

After a quiet breakfast of bread, fruit, and omelets on the picturesque embassy patio, the three Project members and two Omegans met Ochoa outside on the sidewalk.  The man was dressed in stylishly casual slacks, a white shirt, and a tan vest – the perfect picture of a wealthy jungle explorer, not a seasoned archeologist.

"I trust you enjoyed your stay?" he asked.

"It was very nice," Suzanne said.  "What we've seen of the city is very… picturesque."

"Colonial is the word you were looking for," Ochoa said with a knowing smile. Suzanne blushed.  "Ah, here is our transportation."

Two all-terrain vehicles pulled up to the curb and the foursome climbed in – Harrison, Suzanne, and Alverez in one, Ironhorse, Ochoa, and Stavrakos in the other.

The drive took them around the outskirts of the city, then up into the mountains.  The day promised to be fair and sunny and the drive into the lush mountainside was breathtaking, making the time pass quickly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

A swift three hours later they reached the dig site, a tiny enclave carved out of the thick green jungle.  A dozen graduate students labored in several small pits, each carefully working to uncover more treasures buried in the rich soil.  To the far right of the site three canvas tents had been erected to house the students and three professors who were in charge of the dig.  To the far left, edging into the thick jungle growth, was a fourth, smaller tent.

Ochoa motioned to them to follow him and headed for the single tent set away from the others.  "Clifford?" he called when he reached the structure.  "Manuel?"

The flap flew back and a tall, lanky man stepped out.  His red hair and matching handlebar mustache set him off as the U.S. member of the research team.

"Clifford, these are the people I told you about," Ochoa said quietly.

"Come on in," the man said, a soft Texas drawl coloring his voice.  "Manny's inside." He ducked back inside.

"Manny?" Harrison asked, catching Ochoa's arm.

"Emmanuel Cortez.  He is the assistant to my counterpart here in Ecuador," Ochoa explained.  "He is fully aware of the alien threat.  My counterpart and I have been combing the old records, looking for citations dealing with these black objects, flying craft, beings from the stars and the like."  He waved his hand in a dismissing gesture.  "It was something we found in an old conquistador report that led us to this site."

"You're an archeologist?" Suzanne asked.

Ochoa smiled.  "I know, I do not look the part.  Too, how do you say it?  Soft? I am the liaison to the Peruvian government and the department of antiquities.  I supply the money.  Emmanuel and Clifford are the real archeologists.  For me it is a… hobby of sorts."

Ochoa pulled the flap back and allowed the Project members to enter behind the Omegans.  Once it was determined that the tent was secure, Stavrakos and Alverez returned outside to stand guard.

Emmanuel Cortez was nothing like Ochoa.  Short and round, with close cropped black hair and equally dark eyes, Cortez looked more like a model for the stereotypical Mexican bandit than a well-known Latin American scholar.  He grinned at the Project members and waddled over to shake their hands after wiping his dirt-crusted fingers against his baggy brown pants.

"Dr. Cortez," Harrison greeted him.  "A pleasure to finally meet you in person, sir."

"And you as well, Dr. Blackwood," he replied.  "I've enjoyed your comments in the antiquities forum.  I think you'll be most interested in what we have uncovered."

"I'm sure I will," Harrison said as Cortez moved to Suzanne.

"Antiquities forum?" Ironhorse asked softly.

"An on-line chat group," Harrison dismissed it.  "Nothing you'd be interested in, Colonel."

"And you must be Dr. McCullough?" Cortez asked, taking her hand and placing a light kiss on the back.

"Yes, and it's Suzanne, please."

"Very well… Suzanne."  He stepped to Ironhorse.  "Colonel Ironhorse?"

"Yes, sir."

"Pleased to meet y'all," the lanky Texan said to speed Cortez along.  He quickly shook hands with the threesome.  "Dr. Clifford Ramsey, UT Austin."

"I've read some of your work," Harrison said.  "Interesting stuff to say the least, very _avant garde_."

"Tell that to the tenure committee," Clifford growled good-naturedly.  "If you'll step over here I'll show y'all what the fuss is about."

The Project members followed the three men to two sawhorses supporting a piece of plywood between them.  Under the sheet was a coffin-sized hole in the ground.  Cortez and Ramsey moved the plywood aside, then the sawhorses, to reveal two stone statues that squatted across from one another.  Between them they held a solid black pentagon about six inches tall and six inches wide.

"It is beautiful, no?" Cortez said, soft enough to make them believe they were in the presence of something precious.

"Yes, it is," Harrison replied in the same hushed tone.  "May I?"

Ramsey nodded and the astrophysicist lowered himself carefully into the pit.  Squatting down, he fished into the pocket of his flannel shirt and pulled out his glasses and slipped them on.  Peering at the statues, he frowned.  The creatures held the object in a grip that clearly couldn't be slipped without breaking the stone fingers.

"I don't recognize the style," Harrison said.

"We believe this statue, and some of the other artifacts we've found here, will support the theory that there was early Japanese influence in Ecuador," Ramsey stated, his excitement clear in his tone.

"Japanese?" Suzanne echoed, her eyebrows arching.

"There are marked similarities between early Jomon pottery in Japan and Valdivia pottery here in Ecuador," Cortez explained.  "That is the generally accepted basis of the Nipon Influence theory—"

"The currents would've made the transoceanic contact possible," Ramsey added. "And artifacts like this help lend support to the theory.  O' course we're talking about contact that happened two thousand years ago."

"At this point it is all speculation and elegant arguments," Ochoa concluded.  "But it is the black object that made us think there might be an alien influence."

"Not that we can put that in a paper," Ramsey said with a smile.  "Visitors from Japan the academy can buy, but not visitors from another planet."

"Just as well," Harrison said, climbing out of the pit.  He dusted himself off, asking, "Any ideas on how to remove the pentagon from its setting?"

Ramsey and Cortez both shook their heads.  "Not unless we break the fingers," the Texan said.  "And we'd rather not do that if we can help it."

"I'm afraid you'll have to surrender the pentagon, gentlemen," Ironhorse said.

"We can bring some of the equipment out here," Suzanne offered.  "But that's only going to get us started."

"But it is a start," Ochoa said.  "Do you have your equipment with you?"

"On the plane," Harrison said.

"Well, good, I will have it brought here," Ochoa said.

"Thank you, sir, but my people will take care of that," Ironhorse interrupted.  "We can bring it out tomorrow."

"I agree," Harrison added.  "But for today I'd like to take a look at the statue and anything else you've uncovered, to build a context."

"Sure thing," Ramsey said.  "If you'll follow me I'll give ya the nickel tour, but I have t' tell ya, it's like the damned thing just dropped out of nowhere."

Ironhorse watched Harrison and Suzanne leave with Ramsey and Cortez, then stepped outside with Ochoa.

"Colonel, if you'll excuse me, I have paperwork to fill out," the Peruvian said.  "When you're done here I'll have the statue crated and taken to your plane."

"Thank you," Paul nodded.

Ochoa walked across the site, disappearing into the first of the three larger tents.  When he was gone, Alverez and Stavrakos joined the colonel.

"Sir, we've been watching that rise to the north and we're pretty sure there's folks up there watching the camp," Stavrakos said.

Ironhorse smiled like they'd just exchanged a joke.  "I'll check it out, Sergeant.  What about the people here?"

"They're all clear on the RD.  No bogies, sir," Alverez reported.

"Stick with doctors Blackwood and McCullough, and keep an eye on Ochoa and the other two scientists."

"Will do, Colonel," Stavrakos said.  "And you, sir?"

"I'm going to take a look around, then see if I can't get a peek at our friends on the hill."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

From the cover of the jungle two men watched the comings and goings at the dig site.  They spoke softly in Spanish, discussing who the three new Americans were, and what they might be doing there.

"It is uncanny," one of the men finally said.  "That one looks like you, Enrique.  _Just_ like you."

"There is a certain resemblance," the rebel leader agreed.  "But why have they come here?  What is Ochoa planning?"

"Whatever it is, you can know it will mean a loss for the people of Peru… and Ecuador," the man replied.

"But why move the artifact from Peru to here?  And where are the jaguars?" Enrique asked.  "And why let real scientists examine this thing?  What is Ochoa doing?"

The other man shook his head, having no answers for his leader.

"Come, we've stayed too long," Enrique said.

The two men faded into the jungle, unaware of Ironhorse, who sat not far away, having heard their conversation even if he couldn't see their faces.  When the men were far enough away, he headed back into camp to wait for any results Harrison and Suzanne might be able to produce, all the while wondering, like the rebels, what the hell Ochoa was up to.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Unknown to both the colonel and Enrique, another man sat in the jungle, watching the camp, his thoughts focused on the red-bronze-skinned man he thought was Enrique.

"Captain, what do we do now?" a short, rotund soldier asked his commander.

"It seems that Ochoa has betrayed us," Captain Diaz replied.  "He and Enrique have decided to sell our national treasures to the Americans."  He drew in a deep breath and let it out with a hiss.  "I want that rebel.  Whatever it takes, bring Enrique to me.  I will find out what they are planning."

"Si, Captain," the soldier said, hurrying off.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The Project members and the two soldiers headed back into the city in the afternoon, passing Indians and mountain villagers with woven straw baskets on their backs, the unsold fruits and vegetables from their day in the open markets.  They reached the outskirts as the sun set and the temperature dropped rapidly, igniting the usual summer ground fog.

"What is that?" Suzanne asked.

"It's almost eerie," Harrison added, watching the white-gray tendrils creep and spread up the valley.

"Ah, yes, the ground mist, it is much like a London fog, is it not?" Ochoa asked.  "Summers along the equator make for the effect.  Hot days, yes, but once the sun is gone the cold winds come out of the west, off the mountain snows—"

"And the combination of the cold air and the warm ground creates the fog," Harrison finished.

As they drove through the mist they watched it snake up the streets and into the open courtyards of the large houses that were evenly spaced near the Embassy.

The land rovers stopped along the curb outside the Embassy.  Ochoa escorted them inside, then invited them to dine at the home of a local scholar, Dr. Jamison Juarez, a Mayan expert, his counterpart in the Ecuadorian government, and Cortez's boss.  Harrison quickly accepted the invitation.

Ironhorse sighed softly and Suzanne reached out to give his arm a quick, supportive squeeze.  He flashed her a brief smile, having long ago grown used to the astrophysicist's almost child-like enthusiasm for knowledge and learning.

"Good, very good," Ochoa said.  "I will send a car for you in, say, two hours?"

"That would be fine," Harrison said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Dr. Juarez's home was a large Spanish colonial complete with archways, adobe walls, tile floors, and several small, constantly flowing fountains scattered in the rooms.  Plants and flowers added decoration and burning candles a cheery orange glow.  An old, small, dark-skinned man led them into a large dining room where a long rectangular table was set with an array of South American dishes.

"Welcome!  Welcome!"

The Project members turned to greet their host.  Jamison Juarez was another tall, distinguished-looking man with blond hair just going gray and bright, intelligent blue eyes. He shook hands with his guests, then took a moment to describe the main dishes, warning which were spicy and which were not.

The meal passed quickly, Harrison keeping Juarez talking for the majority of it.  Ochoa chimed in now and again, adding more information on local ancient history and archeological evidence.  Suzanne asked an occasional question and Ironhorse was content to listen and watch, looking for clues about the comments he'd overheard about Ochoa.

When they finished eating, the group moved into an equally large sitting-room, taking seats in a semi-circle around a small hearth with a cracking fire.  The tiny old man entered with a tray bearing five glasses of brandy.  When he reached Ironhorse, he leaned forward slightly and said softly, "Your sergeant would like a word with you, Colonel."

Paul nodded his thanks to the old man and stood.  "If you'll excuse me a moment?"

"Certainly," Juarez said.

Ironhorse followed the old man through the house to the kitchen.  He paused, glancing around.  None of the Omegans were present.  Turning to ask the old man where Stavrakos was, he saw a flash of movement and dove for cover behind a counter that took up the center of the room.  A silenced shot struck the cabinets and clattered to the floor.

Paul glanced quickly at the tiles.  A dart.  Whoever they were, they wanted him alive.  He reached up, touching the RD in his pant pocket.  It was there and working.  His attackers were not aliens.

He could hear them moving and considered calling for help, but the kitchen was at the rear of the house, and his cry would never get past the thick adobe walls to reach Blackwood, Suzanne, and the other soldiers.  The only option he had was to rush the men and see if he could get past them.  He crouched, then exploded out from behind cover, tackling the first man and knocking him against the far counter, dropping him with a savage elbow blow to the side of the head.

Ironhorse bolted for the door, but the dart was faster.  He felt it sink into his back just below his right shoulder blade, and felt his muscles immediately seize up.  He fell, paralyzed.

"Give him the other shot," Paul heard a man say in Spanish, then felt a sting in his thigh.

Despite his best efforts, the colonel slipped into unconsciousness.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Consciousness returned with a cold splash and Ironhorse's eyes slitted open just far enough so he could watch the water roll off his naked chest.  He glanced down.  Someone had stripped him down to his briefs and arranged him on a stool.  His hands were trapped in ropes, as were his ankles.  He glanced up.  Another rope was wrapped around his chest and tied to a ring in the ceiling, keeping him on the stool.

A tall, angry Latino man stood in front of him, his hands on his hips.  "So, Enrique, now you are involved with the theft of Peruvina national treasures?"  He tisked and shook his head.  "The Americans, who are they?"

"You've got the wrong man," Ironhorse said, rapidly sizing up the man: cruel, but not particularly talented; arrogant and careless.

A dry laugh echoed in the room.  Paul glanced around.  He was in the basement of a big house – a mansion in all likelihood.  And from the looks of the furniture he was still in Ecuador, probably still in Quito.  That was an advantage for his people finding him.

"Don't lie to me, Enrique, I know you too well.  Your Yankee accent does not impress me."

Paul wondered briefly just who his twin was, and guessed that he must have been one of the two men who had been watching them in the jungle.  He also wondered what this Enrique's history was with this man, knowing only too well that he was going to find out more than he ever wanted to know before morning.

The brief flash that the man might be an alien evaporated as he began to rail against the supposed Peruvian guerrilla.

Then the torture began.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Blackwood and Suzanne shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, looking for the colonel.

"Is something wrong?" Juarez asked.

"Where's Colonel Ironhorse?" Harrison asked.

The professor looked slightly confused, but reached over and rang a small silver bell that rested on an end table near his leather chair.  The old man returned. "Tio, where is Colonel Ironhorse?"

"I do not know, Señor," the old man replied in Spanish.  "I left him in the kitchen."

"If you'll excuse me a moment," Juarez said, standing.

He followed the old man out of the room, leaving Harrison and Suzanne alone with Ochoa.  They made polite small-talk, waiting for the professor's return.

When Juarez rushed back into the room the two Project members stood.  He wiped a trembling hand across his pale forehead.  "There's a man in the kitchen… I think he's dead."

"Ironhorse?" Harrison demanded.

The professor shook his head.  "I've never seen this man before.  I have called the police."

Harrison stalked away, heading for the front door.  He snatched it open, finding Stavrakos standing there.  "Sergeant," he said.  "The Colonel's missing."

"Missing?" he echoed, his expression turning hard.  "I'll get a search started, sir."

"Keep me informed," Harrison said, stepping back into the house.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

It was early afternoon the next day when their first break came.  A knock at the door and the old butler led a man into the sitting room where Harrison and Suzanne waited with an Omegan guard.

Blackwood bolted out of his chair, calling "Paul!" even as he realized that the man joining them might look like the colonel, but wasn't Paul Ironhorse.

The doppelganger nodded at Blackwood.  "I'm afraid I'm not the man you're looking for," he said in slightly accented English.

"And just who are you, sir?" Juarez demanded.

"That is Enrique Vesque," Ochoa supplied.  "Dr. Vesque used to be a professor in the department of Archeology at the University in Lima.  He left and became a guerrilla."

"You have your definition of what I've become, Dr. Ochoa; I have mine," the man replied.

"He looks so much like Paul," Suzanne said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Harrison nodded.  "Why are you here?"

Enrique walked over to a serving table and poured himself a cup of coffee, added sugar and stirred before he said, "I have news, about your friend."

"What is it?" Harrison said, moving to stand next to the man.

"He's been kidnapped by Captain Diaz, an old enemy of mine from Peru."

"Why is Diaz here?" Blackwood asked.  "And what does he want with Paul?"

Enrique took a sip of his coffee, then replied, "You'll have to ask Dr. Ochoa why he's here.  As for his interest in my apparent twin, I suspect that he mistook your friend for me."

"Do you know where they are?" Coleman asked, her blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Yes.  I'll show you, but you won't be able to go in until dark.  The house is well guarded."

"You just show me," the pretty female sergeant said.  "I'll decide when and how we're going in."

Enrique nodded.  "Very well, come with me."

Coleman turned back to the two Project members.  "Doctors, if you'd please return to the Embassy we'll recon the situation and get back to you as quickly as we can."

Suzanne nodded, wrapping an arm around Blackwood's to still his objections.

"Good," Coleman said.  "Alex, Goodson, you take the doctors back."

The two men nodded.

"Stein, Alverez, you're with me."

"I have a vehicle," Enrique said as they headed out of the room.

When they were gone, Blackwood turned to Ochoa.  "Maybe you should ride with us," he said.  "And explain what Dr. Vesque meant about this Diaz character."

Ochoa chuckled softly and shook his head.  "I have no idea what Enrique was referring to.  He and I have never been on good terms and when he abandoned his post, well, let us just say that there is no love lost between the two of us."

"Nevertheless," Harrison insisted.  "Maybe you know more than you think."

The two Omegans moved closer to Ochoa, making it clear that he was taking the ride to the Embassy, like it or not.

"Very well," the man said.  "Perhaps we should go, then."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The Omegans waited until the sun set beyond the Andean Mountains and the ground fog began to rise, then five of the soldiers and Enrique moved through the mist along the narrow streets, as silent and invisible as the shadows that clung to the buildings. Not far away Alverez waited in an unmarked car with Harrison and Suzanne, monitoring the progress of the soldiers on his comm link.

Making their way along the edges of carefully crafted lawns of the residential street the soldiers were blind to the beauty of the neighborhood that included some of the city's richest residents.  They dropped into the fog as the headlights of an approaching car rounded the corner at the end of the street, melting into the shadows of the trees and hedges.  When the car passed, they reemerged, continuing their advance.

They crossed a street, making their way down another block and into a heavily wooded area.  Enrique led them, Coleman just off to his right.  Reaching the edge of the woods, she reached out, stopping the man, then raised a hand, halting the rest of the Omegans.  She listened intently for a moment, then lowered herself to one knee.  The others copied the move.  Signaling for the others to stay put, she and Enrique moved forward, parting low hanging branches.

Past the opening in the foliage they found a large wrought iron gate that blocked the entrance to a villa across the street.  Three soldiers armed with M-16 automatic rifles guarded the entrance.  The iron gates were set in a ten foot brick wall that surrounded an elegant colonial mansion.  Spotlights sat to the left and right of the gate and other lights were positioned every twenty yards along the top of the entire wall.

Coleman studied the top of the wall until she spotted the cameras resting just at the edge of the gate lights.  Two remote cameras rotated back and forth, scanning the area from the gate entrance to each end of the street and back again.

"There are two soldiers at each of the guard positions at the four corners of the outside wall," Enrique said quietly.

Coleman made the quick calculation.  "Eleven on the outside… and on the grounds?"

"A private security force of ten.  They live on the estate.  They work night duty in two shifts of five men each.  Three hours on, three off."

"Set sweeps?" Coleman asked, mentally crossing her fingers.

"No," he replied.  "The interior guards have no set pattern."

 _Damn_ , she sighed silently.  An accidental encounter could compromise the mission.  "We'll just have to find those five men and take them out before we enter the house," she said aloud, then carefully lifted the branches and inched herself back to where the others waited and explained the situation.

They made their plans, then moved forward again.

From their vantage point at the edge of the trees the soldiers could see the three main-gate guards sitting on the sidewalk, their backs against the brick wall.  Coleman and the other Omegans grinned.  Give the men half an hour and they'd probably be asleep.  She held up three fingers.

Removing their silencers from the small backpacks they carried, the Omegans attached them to the H&K MP5 9mm submachine guns Enrique had supplied.  The Peruvian rebel removed an eight-inch suppressor and locked it in place at the end of his H&K P9S nine millimeter pistol.  That done, they settled in to wait.

Fifteen minutes later the angry shouts of the commander of the guards filled the night air.  He'd found the three sentries.

Using the screaming man as cover, Coleman and the others hustled to the western edge of the woods.

Coleman signaled the way they would break up, then motioned for them to go.  The soldiers faded into the darkness, leaving Coleman and Enrique waiting.  She fished a small transistor out of her pack and waited.

Less than five minutes later the transmitter flashed red twice, Goodson's corner was cleared; two of the security people dead.  A moment later two more flashes, green this time.  Stavrakos had been equally successful.  Both men would move to the third corner now.

 _What about Stein?_ she wondered.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Stein left the woods, moving across the road in the fog to the west wall.  Easing along the cool bricks, he headed to the corner guard post.  One of the occupants, unaware of the tongue-lashing his companions had just endured, sat against the wall, sleeping.

Without hesitation the soldier placed the silenced submachine gun less than an inch from the man's temple and pulled the trigger.  Stepping over the body, he tapped on the wooden side of the guard box.  The second man stepped out, turning right into the barrel of Stein's weapon.  He fired, catching the body before it fell and dragging it back inside the box.  He reached for his transmitter and pressed the button twice.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Back in the trees Coleman saw the yellow flashes.  Stein was successful.  His two flashes were immediately followed by a red and green one.  That just left the three men at the front gate.  It was time to rock and roll.  She gestured to Enrique and they moved forward.

The other Omegans watched their transmitters for the three blue flashes that announced that the exterior was now secure.  They came.  A few moments later they all gathered at the west corner.

Stavrakos braced himself with his back against the wall.  Interlocking his fingers to form a stirrup, he nodded.  One after another Enrique and the Omegans stepped forward, placed their feet in the stirrup and were hoisted up onto the wall.  They jumped silently into the courtyard below.  That done, Stavrakos moved to the guard house to hold the west corner for their escape.

Inside the courtyard the Omegans and Enrique separated, searching out the five roving security men.  Less than three minutes later the five were dead and the soldiers converged on the security force quarters that sat behind the main house.  There were no lights on inside.

Coleman felt the sweat soaking through the black mask she wore to cover her face as she reached out and gripped the doorknob and turned it slowly.  A slight click sounded as the bolt cleared the doorframe.  She paused, listening to see if the noise had awakened anyone inside.  Silence was the only reply.  She eased the door open far enough to allow them to slip through and when they were all inside she closed it again.

They were in a living room.  The soldiers waited for their eyes to adjust to the darkness, then moved silently along the walls of the hallway that lay across the room.  There were five closed doors along the hall, two on each side and one at the far end.  One door was open, a bathroom where a small nightlight cast a soft glow on the hall carpet.

The Omegans took positions at each of the doors.  Raising the silenced MP5's they kicked the doors open.  Some of the security troops managed to sit up in their beds, staring at the door through sleep-dulled eyes that only saw a tiny flash coming from the doorway.  Deadly whispers quickly claimed the men's lives.

That done, the soldiers returned to the living room.  Coleman moved to a window and studied the house.  No lights came from the upper stories, but one light on the ground floor shone into the night.  It had been almost twenty-four hours since the colonel had disappeared.

She keyed her comm link.  "Grounds secured.  Alverez, bring the doctors to the guard house.  Keep them out of the bedrooms."

"Roger, Sarge," was the man's immediate reply.

"We're going in."

They moved with ease through the shadows to a point below a balcony on the south end of the building.  Goodson removed a long spike from his pack, folded out the seven-inch, barbed metal legs and locked them in place.  Franklin removed a nylon rope and attached it to the spike, then, waving the others back, he twirled the spike three times and tossed it up and over the balcony railing.

Leaping up, Stein grabbed the rope, and, going hand over hand, reached the railing in a matter of seconds.  The others followed.

The room off the balcony was shrouded in darkness, but slipping through the double doors the group made their way across a sitting room and out into the hall to search the house.

The first floor room with the light on was the kitchen.  Two men sat at a table, drinking coffee.  Two silenced shots cut their break short.  The soldiers moved to the stairs that led to the basement.  "The house is secured," Coleman said into the comm link.  "We're heading for the basement."

At the bottom of the stairs they found a hallway and made their way along it to another door where light spread out from the crack at the bottom.

Inside they could hear the muffled sound of a man's voice, demanding something.  There was no answering reply.  On Coleman's order they kicked the door in and rushed the room.

Diaz swung around, his eyes going wide when he saw Enrique and the armed Americans.

"You have the wrong man," the rebel hissed, looking from the bloody, bruised figure still sitting on the stool to the cattle prod in Diaz's hand.

Diaz shook his head.  "No.  It is not possible!  You—!"

"It's over," Enrique said.  "Your long search for me comes to an end.  Here.  Now."

"I will see you dead!" Diaz screamed, lunging for the rebel as he brought the prod up.

Before he could reach him, Enrique raised his H&K and killed the captain.

"All clear," Coleman said into her comm link.  "We're coming out with the colonel."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Harrison heard Coleman announce that they were coming out and rushed for the door to the security quarters.  Alverez let him go, following on his heels with Suzanne.  They met the others midway between the house and the quarters, Ironhorse staggering along between Goodson and Franklin.

Harrison came to a dead stop, his eyes widening as he took in the blood, bruises, and small burn marks.  "My God," he gasped.  "What did they do to him?"

Suzanne swung away, afraid she was going to be sick.

"I'm fine," Ironhorse assured them both.  "Let's get the hell out of Dodge, people."

"Yes, sir," Coleman snapped, hoping the civilians didn't lose it now.

"Heads up," Stavrakos announced over the comm link.  "A car's on its way in."

"Great," she hissed.  "Take cover."

They faded into the lush landscaping, Goodson and Harrison staying with the colonel.  From the shadows they watched the long limo approach the house.  It parked at the top of the circular drive.  The windows, darkly tinted, made it impossible to tell who was in the vehicle.  A man exited from the front passenger seat and ran into the house.  A few minutes later he returned at a run.  A window at the rear of the car dropped several inches and the man spoke rapidly in Spanish.

"He found Diaz," Enrique explained softly.

The man trotted back to the open passenger door and climbed back into the car.  The engine gunned and the car sped quickly back down the drive, the tires squealing as it turned back onto the road.

"Look," Alverez said, pointing at the rear bumper of the cars.

"The Peruvian embassy," Enrique said.  "Ochoa."

"Ochoa?" Harrison asked.

"I'll explain later," the rebel leader said.  "Right now we have to find someplace to hide until we can see how far the corruption has spread."

"But—" Harrison started to argue.

"He's right," Ironhorse breathed, then looked to Enrique.  "You have someplace in mind?"

"In the hills.  Friends of mine," the man replied.

Ironhorse nodded.

"Paul, you need to get to a hospital," Blackwood countered.

"That's a negative, Doctor," Ironhorse said, climbing painfully to his feet.  "We have no immunity here, no idea who's on our side and who isn't, and no explanation that we can offer."

Blackwood's distraught expression told the colonel he understood the situation, even if he didn't like it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Reaching Stavrakos, they moved across the street, through the woods and down the quiet streets to the waiting jeeps.  Enrique directed them up into the hills, the road shifting to a narrow dirt trail that eventually ended in a small mountain village.

A light came on in one of the small houses and a man exited, carrying a lantern.  Enrique climbed out of the jeep and spoke softly to him.  The man nodded and grabbed the rebel's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

Enrique smiled and nodded, then returned to the others.  "We can hide in the church.  Jose will have someone take the jeeps back to Quito."

"How will we get back?" Suzanne asked.  "Paul needs to see a doctor."

"I'll go back tomorrow morning, see who we can trust," Enrique said.

"Not until you explain what the hell's going on," Coleman said softly.

The rebel paused, but nodded.  "As soon as we're in the church."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 _Under the church would be a better description_ , Suzanne decided as she watched Goodson working over Paul.  Washed up, he didn't look nearly as bad as he had earlier, but the bruises were still spectacular.

A softly muttered curse told her he was awake again.

"Sorry, sir," the medic replied as he continued checking the colonel's wounds and bandaging them.  "Want some more water?"

"Please," Paul replied, accepting a glass from the medic.  He downed the contents without a pause and handed it back.

Harrison joined Suzanne, both of them staring down at Paul.  "You're sure you don't need to see a doctor?" Blackwood asked, his tone clearly stating his opinion.

"Yes," was the colonel's taciturn reply.

"But you've been—"

"Harrison," Ironhorse interrupted, "the man was a sadist, but he didn't know a damned thing about torture."

"That's not what some of my men would say," Enrique said, walking in to join them.  "Captian Diaz has killed many men over the years – many friends."

"Believe me, I know an expert when I meet one," Paul countered dryly.  "He might've been a murderer, but he wasn't an interrogator."  He looked at Goodson.  "Find me some clothes."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, I believe you, Colonel Ironhorse," Enrique said, watching the medic climb back up the stairs.  With the soldier on guard, no one would be sneaking up on them.  They were good troops.

"Would you please tell us what's going on?" Suzanne asked the handsome Peruvian.

"And why the two of you look so much alike…  Twins?" Harrison asked.

Enrique chuckled.  "The latter I cannot explain."  He looked to Ironhorse.  "Can you?"

Ironhorse offered the man a weak smile.  "Not unless my grandfather went a lot farther than I thought when he went off to talk to the spirits."

Enrique chuckled.  "Maybe he did; my grandmother always said my grandfather was a spiritual man."  He walked over and retrieved a pitcher of water and carried it back, refilling the colonel's glass, then sitting down on one of the small wooden chairs.  "As for what's going on, it's a rather complicated story."

"We've got all night," Harrison replied dryly.

"All right.  About a month ago two peasants in Peru were working to clear a new field.  They found an artifact buried in the ground and contacted the village priest, who in turn contacted his bishop.  The bishop called the University of Lima and they sent Dr. Ochoa to examine the find."  He stood and paced across the small basement.

"And he found the statue with the pentagon," Harrison concluded.

"No," the rebel leader corrected.  "He found what was left of a small stone pyramid, about seven feet tall.  The statue you saw was one of the artifacts discovered inside the structure."

"Why did he move the statue here?" Suzanne asked, watching Paul down the water. "Would you like some more?" she asked.

Ironhorse nodded.  "Because he found something else, something more valuable."

Enrique nodded.  "Exactly.  Two foot-tall gold jaguars."

Blackwood whistled.  "Those would be… priceless."

"Yes, priceless to a museum, or the Peruvian people, but on the black market they would command an extremely high price."  The rebel paced back across the room.  "Ochoa needed a way to smuggle the pieces out of the country."

"Us?" Suzanne asked.

"Let me explain," Enrique said.  "The government in Peru is corrupt for the most part, but there are a few men in power who feel that preserving our national treasures is critical to the cultural survival of Peru."

"A reasonable assumption," Harrison said, nodding.

"As a result, it is difficult to smuggle national treasures out of the country, but it is not so difficult to move one from Peru to Ecuador."

"Fewer palms to grease," Ironhorse muttered.

Enrique nodded.  "Ochoa contacted Juarez, and together they arranged for the stone statue to be moved to this country."

"But why bring two reputable scientists into it?" Harrison asked.  "Cortez and Ramsey aren't involved, are they?"

"Not that I know of," Enrique said.  He looked from Suzanne to Harrison to Ironhorse.

"Where does Diaz fit in?" the colonel asked.

"He and Ochoa had a lucrative business arrangement," Enrique explained.  "I said it was difficult to smuggle items out of Peru, but it is not impossible, not with the military helping."

"But the gold jaguars were too big," Harrison said.

"They did not want to cut the good captain in, no," Enrique said.  "Ochoa and Juarez planned to keep the money for themselves."

"But that still doesn't explain why they contacted us?" Suzanne reminded.

"Ah, yes, that."  Enrique hesitated, then explained.  "I am aware of the work Ochoa and Juarez do – the work of an 'unusual nature.'  Gabriel Morales was a good friend.  He understood the battle I am fighting for my people and did what he could to support our cause.  In turn, we looked for particular kinds of objects and items for him."

"Items like the black pentagon?" Harrison asked.

"Yes, items like that.  I believe that Ochoa planned to smuggle the jaguars out with the stone statue on your plane.  Given the nature of the artifact and your work, there would be no customs inspectors examining the crate.  I'm sure he has a man waiting at the other end to collect them."

"So Cortez and Ramsey were just there to lend an air of credibility?" Harrison asked.

"I think so," the rebel replied.  "I know Emmanuel Cortez.  He is an honest man, and a fine archeologist.  He would not be party to the theft of national treasures."

"How did you end up here?" Ironhorse asked.

"Carols Cruz, Ochoa's assistant," Enrique explained.  "He is one of my men.  He kept me informed."

"And Diaz followed you, discovered what Ochoa and Juarez were doing and grabbed me, thinking I was you, in order to find out what the plans were."

"So he could ensure his own cut," Enrique finished.

"And that car that arrived at the house?" Suzanne asked.

"Ochoa and Juarez, would be my guess," Ironhorse said.  "Diaz wanted to know what they were planning with the Yankees."

"Ochoa would know that Diaz might mistake you for me, Colonel."

"But he needs us alive and well if he's going to get his gold out of the country," Paul said.

"Yes, he knows that, given the nature of the stone statue, you will have to find and take it."

"So they'll be waiting for us at the dig site," Harrison said.  "And they'll probably be very happy to see us."

"I don't think so," Ironhorse said.  "They've had a day.  I'd be willing to bet that the statue and the jaguars are already on the plane."

"It would be too dangerous to confront Ochoa," Enrique said.

Ironhorse nodded.  "We should head straight for the airport, secure the plane and—"

"That won't be necessary, Colonel."

The foursome looked up, finding Dr. Cortez climbing down the wooden ladder to join them.

"Manuel?" Enrique said.

The archeologist grinned.  "It is a long story, my friend, but let us just say that I grew tired of our past being stolen from us."

"You're working for the government?" Enrique asked.

Cortez nodded.  "Yesterday Ochoa and Juarez came to the dig site and crated the statue—"

"And added the jaguars," Ironhorse said.

"Yes.  As soon as the crate was placed on your plane I turned them both over to the authorities."

"They were arrested?" Harrison asked.

"Yes."

"Then who was in the car at Diaz's?" Suzanne asked.

"That was me.  When Carlos could not find Enrique he came to me.  I have many friends and it was not difficult to find the mansion Diaz was using.  When we found him dead we didn't know what to do.  Carlos and I have been searching for you."

"How did you find us?" Paul asked.

"Jesus," Enrique said.  "I told him to contact Manuel when he took the jeeps back to Quito."

"Yes," Cortez said, nodding.  "He called me and we came as quickly as we could."

"And the statue's safe?" Harrison asked.

"Safe and on your plane.  Carols and Miguel are with the craft."

"Another one of my men," Enrique explained before anyone could ask.

"And the jaguars?" Suzanne asked.

"Safe.  I will see to it they are returned to the people of Peru," Cortex assured.  "A shame, too.  Clifford and I were disappointed that the statue was not a true Eucadorian find."

"To support the Nipon Theory," Harrison guessed.

"Yes."  Cortez sighed heavily.  "We will just have to keep looking.  Once we realized that the statue had not come from the dig site, we simply waited for Ochoa to make his move.  He must have thought us fools."

"With Ochoa and Juarez in jail that means we'll need someone in Peru and Ecuador to take up the work Gabriel Morales started," Harrison said.  He grinned at Cortez.  "Know anyone who might be interested, Doctor?"

The short, pudgy man grinned back and nodded, rubbing his chin.  "I might know someone here and he has a friend who can be trusted."

"I'm very glad to hear that," Harrison said.  "Make sure you let me know the details when they're sorted out."

"I will do that, Harrison."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The following morning the Project members and the Omegans were driven to the airport by Cortez and Ramsey.  They stopped halfway there, Enrique meeting Carlos and Miguel.  The three rebels disappeared into the jungle.

"Think he'll ever achieve what he's fighting for?" Harrison asked.

"I pray for his success every day," Cortez replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

A thorough search of the plane turned up nothing unusual save the stone statue and the black pentagon.  Ironhorse stretched out on the couch that took up half the forward section of the cabin, getting as comfortable as he could.  Franklin was on his own for the flight home.

They took off, the soldiers and Suzanne immediately napping.  Harrison, however, sat in his seat, watching the colonel.

"I guess I should be getting used to this," the scientist said softly.

"What's that?" Paul replied.

"You."

"Me?"

"Damn it, Paul, you were tortured and running around like— like—"

"Harrison," the colonel interrupted, "look, what Diaz did to me wasn't really torture."  He sat up on the couch and met Blackwood's confused and worried gaze.  "When I was in Vietnam I learned what torture really was," he said softly.  "Diaz thought that simple pain would get him what he wanted.  He was an amateur."

"Amateur?" Harrison echoed.  "I don't think I want to know what an expert does."

"An expert doesn't just hurt you, which makes you mad and gives you the will to fight back.  An expert strips that will away, makes you sad.  He'll take you to a place where all you want is to die, but he won't let you, not until you tell him what he wants to know, and you want to die so badly you tell him what he wants, knowing at the same time he's not really going to let you die, but it's the only hope you have left, so you do it."

Harrison trembled.  "My God."

"Diaz was a sadist, and he hated Vesque.  That hatred made him blind.  I have no doubt he's killed men before, killed them in horrible ways, but he didn't have the patience to extract information or subvert someone."

"But what he did was still dangerous," Harrison argued.

"Not really.  He punched and slapped and thought the bruises were enough.  He used the prod and thought the screams meant he was getting through."

"Screams?"

"You know how you yell when you're doing martial arts?"

Harrison nodded.

"Screaming's the same thing.  It channels the pain, sounds terrible, but keeps you from locking up, expending more energy than you really have to fighting the pain."

"And makes the other guy think he's getting further than he really is."

Ironhorse nodded.  "Feigned unconsciousness and stupor helps, too."

"I hope this isn't all firsthand experience, Paul."

"Some, but some of it is training, too.  Special Forces personnel have to assume that they're going to be captured at some point.  They teach us techniques that will, hopefully, help us survive."

"I can't say I understand, or even approve, but I can see the necessity."  Harrison stood and walked over to sit on the couch as well.  "I just wish I didn't see you and think you're on death's doorstep, like any normal human being would be."

Paul chuckled.  "I'd say that I'd do better in the future, but I prefer my approach."

"Amen to that, Colonel," Harrison said, reaching out to give Paul's shoulder a squeeze.

Ironhorse winced.  "Careful, Blackwood.  I'm not Superman, ya know."

"Could've fooled me, Colonel."

The End


End file.
